Free Secrets of a Lady by Tracy Grant Page B

would he go?” Charles asked.
    “Somewhere none of us will be able to trace him.”
    “And he probably doesn’t have Colin with him in any event. He’ll have left the messy bits up to his hirelings.” Charles pressed his hands over his eyes. “Whom does Carevalo know in England?”
    “Lord and Lady Holland. Lord John Russell. The Lydgates. You and Mrs. Fraser. A score of others, I imagine.”
    Charles moved to the table, keeping O’Roarke within striking distance. “Does he have a mistress?”
    “I expect he has more than one. But he’s of far too jealous a disposition to share their names with anyone, let alone me.”
    “Damn it, O’Roarke.” Charles slammed his hand down on the table. “He’s your friend. He must have written to you.”
    “Don’t break the china, Fraser, it won’t get us anywhere. He’s not my friend, he’s my ally. There’s a world of difference.”
    “Allies write to allies,” Mélanie said.
    “Oh, Carevalo wrote to me.” O’Roarke rested one hand on a chair back with the deceptive nonchalance of a panther. “He wrote to me about the stubborn loyalty of the British government to the monarchy in Spain. About the arrogant contempt British soldiers have for their former Spanish comrades. About the way the liberals at Holland House lectured him on the virtues of British constitutionalism. He didn’t include personal details.” O’Roarke looked at Charles, his expression not unkind. “You don’t have the ring?”
    “ Of course I don’t have the ring.”
    “There’s no of course about it, Fraser. The ring disappeared in the ambush. The men who had it were killed. The French soldier claims the French never got their hands on it.”
    “They must be lying.”
    “Or you are. Carevalo has evidently decided you are.”
    Something snapped inside Charles. He reached out to grab O’Roarke. O’Roarke caught his arm. “Steady, Fraser. For what it’s worth, I’m inclined to believe you. Though I can’t for the life of me say why. There was little to choose between your side and the French. In the end you both used us. You used Spain as a private battleground to fight your war. You used our people as cannon fodder, you used our women as whores, you used our land for pillage. And when it was over, you threw your support behind our incompetent tyrant of a king.”
    Charles wrenched his arm away. “I’m no supporter of King Ferdinand. I never have been.”
    “Your country is. The government you served are doing their damnedest to keep Ferdinand in power while he rips to shreds any of the reforms that came out of the war. That’s what Carevalo would say.”
    Mélanie, who had been watching in silence, moved to the table. “You seem to be forgetting that I’m half-Spanish,” she said. Her hands closed hard on a chair back. “Just as you are, Mr. O’Roarke.”
    O’Roarke turned his gaze to her. His eyes were hard and unyielding. “But you’ve clearly decided your loyalties lie with your husband’s country, madam.”
    Mélanie looked back at him, as though she could cut through to his soul. “He’s six years old. He still worries about ogres under the bed, though he won’t admit it. He can’t go to sleep without his stuffed bear. He woke screaming from a nightmare only last week and I had to go sit with him. He—”
    “Mrs. Fraser—” O’Roarke stretched out his hand to her, then let it fall to his side. “If I hear anything from Carevalo, I’ll let you know.”
    “You expect us to believe that?” Charles said.
    O’Roarke’s mouth lifted in a faint smile. “About as much as you can expect me to believe you know nothing about the ring.”
    Charles looked at him a moment longer, then gave a brief nod. “Quite. Mel? There’s no sense in wasting any more time.”
    “Charles,” O’Roarke said as they turned to the door.
    They both turned round. O’Roarke was still leaning against the chair, but despite the languid drape of the silk dressing gown, he had the